


two paths diverged in a wood

by forestpenguin



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Foreshadowing, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestpenguin/pseuds/forestpenguin
Summary: .. and sorry I could not travel both





	two paths diverged in a wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllegoriesInMediasRes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/gifts).



  
Out of the corner of her eye, Hamsa catches Vijayan staring unabashedly at her. Here, in public, with all the world to witness them. She ducks her head with a smile, turning her attention to the crowd of young women passing by them. A burst of colour contrasting the dreary browns and reds of sand and stone; a echo of the vibrance of home in this foreign land.

A sudden movement catches Hamsa's eye - not a flicker of gold in dark tresses, not the deep violet borders of her sari, but the steady path of her feet. The girl walks with purpose; none of the idleness befitting the maids trailing behind her. None of this swan-walk business of the other princesses; none of the haughty shuffle of the wizened Queens and Queen Mothers.

She rather likes it.

The object of Hamsa's interest easily disappears into the fold of the maids, fitting perfectly in age and stature. The fire in her eyes glints brightly, though, like a beacon in the dark. Ambition, purpose, something - something simmers there.

Only the daughter of a merchant could dare to dream. The lower classes are tied down by the struggles of daily life; the royals have no need for lofty desires when the heavens lie at their feet. But what business does an unaccompanied merchant girl have in a palace?

A branch in their path looms up ahead, Mahishmathi's fortress filled with such twists and turns, and Hamsa takes one final, long, look at the girl before following her escort's lead into the guest chambers. Tomorrow, a long day awaits - by the next sunset, Prince Vikramadeva will be King.

He's young and kind, Hamsa's heard, an odd pairing for a King of Mahishmathi. All for the better, she thinks, and Vijayan smiles when she voices her thoughts in the privacy of their shared bedchamber.

"Soft hearted kings and strong willed queens - aren't these what the world needs more of?" Vijayan is perched on the edge of the bed, grinning at Hamsa.

She laughs. "Yes, in a world much unlike Kuntala, where we have had Kings and Queens of all temperaments for generations." She arches an eyebrow, a reckless question blossoming on her lips. "Which do you prefer?"

Vijayan claps a hand over his mouth in mock horror. "Don't make me answer that."

"As a wife, I would like to know. As a Queen, I need to. As a friend," she pauses, "I gather you should tell me."

"I'd rather," he says, then clasps her hand in his, "we have one of each."

* * *

Laughter spills out of the attendants' chambers. 

Any coronation is a grand celebration, and one in Mahishmathi even more so. It seems the entire continent has filtered into the capital, filling the stone walls to the brim. Sivagami had been to the docks four days prior and already the shores were teeming with incoming ships at the end of their pilgrimage. 

A new King for Mahishmathi is no small feat, after all.

Their kingdom, Sivagami thinks with a bit of pride, is the greatest in the South. Trade, culture, history - Mahishmathi is the hub of all such affairs. And Vikramadeva, she thinks, will be a fine King. A tad timid at times, but kind hearted and just: all their allies will thrive under his guidance, and -

"-but did you see her hair!" one of the girls shrieks, causing a raucous burst of laughter.

Sivagami sighs. The influx of vistors has brought a plethora of styles to gawk at, and while she sees no shame in being well versed in the arts of fashion, the consistent yammering has manifested into a headache. At this rate, she'll get more work done if she slips straight to bed.

Following her instinct, she sneaks in and out of the baths, pulling her covers over her head a few minutes later.

Tomorrow will be a long day, and Sivagami intends to catch every wink of sleep that she needs.

But then - thoughts of today's events swirl in her mind. Various breeds of horses, coats shimmering in the high sun; coins from faraway nations glittering in woven bags; royals disembarking from chariots bearing flags from kingdoms she's only read of in scriptures.

Bedecked in jewelry and carried on palanquins, their faces remain a distant mystery.

Save one.

The Queen and Queen-consort of Kuntala arrived on foot with a handful of attendants. A poor nation by Mahishmathi's standards, but their exports are rivalled by none. Sivagami can still taste the sweet mango plifered from the kitchens. Yes, a poor country, but rich in health and, judging by the royal couple's faces, poor in malaise. In fact, Sivagami thinks the royal duo are quite smitten with each other.

A Queen-consort! she thinks for the hundredth time today.

She'd heard of Queens without Kings, Queen Mothers watching over thrones yet to be filled, but a Queen consort! A man willing to touch the throne but not sit on it himself - what a thought, in bloodthirsty Mahishmathi.

A man willing to leave the throne for his lover. One of royal blood and the highest temperament, because Sivagami has heard of Queen Hamsaasana's virtues and knows them to be the truth, but she is still a woman regardless.

A Queen with husband, but no King.  

What a thought.


End file.
